


The Hands of a Clock

by notyouranswer (gorgeouschaos)



Series: In a Million Ways, You Chose This [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Archivist Sasha James, Avatar of the Lonely Jonathan Sims, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The Lonely - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25711360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gorgeouschaos/pseuds/notyouranswer
Summary: Instead of a nameless bully, Mr. Spider takes Jon’s grandmother. Jon is left entirely alone.And, well, the Lukases have never been ones to turn down an opportunity.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Peter Lukas & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: In a Million Ways, You Chose This [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864744
Comments: 25
Kudos: 185





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Charles Bukowski:  
> "there is a loneliness in this world so great  
> that you can see it in the slow movement of  
> the hands of a clock."  
> This one is dedicated to the wonderful yumantimatter, who enables me in all of my TMA AUs.  
> I don't know when updates will be but I'll try to post the next chapter within the next week or so.  
> Thanks for reading, hope you like it, and I love hearing from y'all!

“I’m a family friend,” the man who smells of saltwater says. Jon doesn’t protest because, even though he doesn’t have friends or family, it’s plausible that he has a family friend. His grandmother had never told him about one, but she also hadn’t told him much of any importance. 

She won’t be telling him anything now, certainly. Jon bites back laughter at the thought of a section of  _ A Guest for Mr. Spider _ dedicated to his grandmother. She’d speak to him through Mr. Spider’s stomach, a cartoonish speech bubble on the page filled with information on taxes and other adult things.

It’s possible he’s in shock.

The man who looks like seawater grips Jon’s arm just a shade too tightly and says to the police officer, “We’ll adopt him, of course.”

“We?” The officer asks.

The man who feels like seawater nods. “My family. We’re very close.”

His smile, momentarily painted blood-red by the light of the sirens, is very cold.

The man, who says his name is Peter Lukas, gives Jon plenty of time to pack. It’s time which Jon does not need, time which lets the aching, familiar loneliness seep into his very bones. Somehow, Jon thinks Lukas knows that. 

“Ready?” Lukas asks from the doorway. Jon nods and follows the “family friend” out of his grandmother’s house. The police officers say nothing; Jon rather suspects their silence has been bought. 

_ You’ll be fine _ , he tells himself as he clambers into the backseat of an expensive car.  _ You’ll be fine _ . 

He’s completely alone in the world, apart from the tenuous connection Peter Lukas claims to have.

He’s completely, utterly alone. And somehow, that doesn’t scare him. 

“I’ll be fine,” Jon tells himself.

“Yes,” Peter murmurs thoughtfully. “I do believe you will.”

Jon curls up tighter and does not respond. 

The  _ Tundra _ is cold. 

That’s Jon’s first and most enduring impression of it. At first he spends every night curled up in a ball and shivering as the ship rises and falls. 

After long enough, the cold wraps around and sinks in and  _ bites _ , leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion that Jon can’t muster enough energy to resent. 

The  _ Tundra  _ is cold, and so are her crew-- those that survive long, anyway. The few who are kind to the strange, sea ice-eyed child tend to vanish. Jon doesn’t ask Peter where they go. 

Peter is a strange kind of cold towards Jon. He doesn’t seem to care about Jon’s wellbeing, but he gets angry when Jon is threatened. He doesn’t show up for weeks at a time, but when he does he brings presents and even hugs. He doesn’t give a damn about Jon’s sanity, but he’s the closest thing to a bedrock Jon has.

Jon is used to being ignored. The fierce ache of being left alone after brief bouts of warmth is worse. 

He’s sure Peter knows that, of course.

Jon grows up almost entirely alone. 

Books are allowed on the  _ Tundra _ , even if Peter frowns upon them, so Jon spends most of his time tearing through the piles of books Peter brings him. Jon learns how to sail and swim and fence and speak French from Peter-- when the man is there-- and, slowly, the soul-deep, chilling exhaustion becomes more reassuring than even the rocking of the boat beneath his feet. 

Jon avoids conversation wherever possible and spends months without speaking. It doesn’t entirely extinguish his craving for warmth, but it comes close. 

When they’re not on the sea, he spends as long as Peter will let him exploring the strange and nonexistent cities they land in. He does so alone, naturally. Jon wanders the streets and finds the hidden places no one else could and begins to resent the strangers and their brightly lit, warmly kept lives. 

Jon has inadvertently worshipped the Lonely for years by the time he sacrifices to his god.

A man who has deep smile lines asks Jon where his parents are. Jon thinks  _ go away _ with all his hatred of the warmth and the man is no longer there. 

It’s entirely accidental, an action given its power through sheer hatred. 

It’s a sacrifice to a god nonetheless. 

Peter’s seawater eyes glow with pride when Jon stumbles back to the ship. He announces that the ship will set sale for Moorland House immediately.

“It’s time you met the rest of the family,” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around to writing this because *jazz hands* I'm waiting for the results from a COVID test!  
> (I'm like 98% sure I'm fine-- just one symptom-- but I'm quarantining and stuff regardless. Hence, this chapter.)  
> Sorry this is so short. I wanted to update.   
> Thanks for reading, hope you like it, and I love hearing from y'all!

Moorland House is cold in much the same way the Tundra is. Jon finds himself shivering nonetheless as he follows Peter to Nathaniel’s office. 

“Do you ever get used to it?” he asks Peter quietly. 

Peter doesn’t need to ask what Jon is referring to. He says, “Yes. And no. It becomes a part of you. If you survive.”

In another life, Jon would have been alarmed by that. In this one, he merely nods in acceptance.

Nathaniel Lukas looks less like seawater than his brother. If he had to assign a descriptor, Jon would say Nathaniel is a foggy moor, grey and empty. 

Not that Peter isn’t empty. Not that Jon isn’t. Nathaniel is just… nothing but grey.

Nathaniel says nothing as he leads Jon and Peter to a large oak door. Peter lays a hand on Jon’s shoulder. 

“Go on, son,” he says. “Make me proud.”

The use of the word  _ son _ means nothing to Jon anymore. From Peter’s slow smile, he knows that. 

Nathaniel opens the door. Beyond it, a staircase spirals away into the depths of the house’s bedrock.

“Make me proud,” Peter repeats, and Jon steps through the doorway knowing Peter means nothing to him.

At the bottom of the steps is a room filled with drifting fog. Within the room is a single rather ugly chair and a grandfather clock whose pendulum ticks loudly with every swing.

Jon sits in the chair and waits. For what, he’s not sure. 

The grandfather clock ticks. 

Jon watches the pendulum swing. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…

Jon jerks awake as his heart begins to ache with such pain he is convinced he’s having a heart attack. He opens his mouth to try to scream, but can’t find the breath to do so. 

The pain does not cease, but it does change. It becomes that bittersweet ache that Jon is so familiar with-- the ache of being completely alone. 

It’s beautiful. 

It’s painful.

It’s Jon. 

Perhaps it always has been.

Jon passes out.

Jon doesn’t remember climbing the stairs, but when he wakes, he is seated besides Peter in Nathaniel’s study.

“Well done,” Peter murmurs. 

Nathaniel fixes his misty eyes on Jon and says, “Welcome to the family, Jonathan Lukas.”

A dozen or so of Jon’s new relatives arrive at the house for dinner not long after. Silent servants bring in course after course of delicious food that has no taste in Jon’s mouth.

“So,” Nathaniel says over dessert, turning to Jon, “How will you serve our god?”

Jon considers. This is an opportunity to ask for anything. 

He doesn’t want anything else. 

“I will join Peter on the Tundra,” he says. “Until you have a better use for me.”

Nathaniel nods and turns back to his tiramisu. 

Peter rests a hand on Jon’s shoulder once more. Its inhuman warmth seeps into Jon’s skin but can’t pierce the cold embedded in his very bones.

Nothing ever would again.

(Nothing, that is, until Martin Blackwood.)

**Author's Note:**

> Stay safe and have a good week!


End file.
